


this feeling is so familiar (again i’m running to you)

by johnil



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eating Disorders, Established Relationship, M/M, Relationship Problems, i wanted to fill up the kunyong tag because the lack of works in it is an abomination, kun is sad, sorry kun, taeyong just wants to help, this is just me venting for like 5000 words, xucheng slash winhei are only mentioned so don’t worry if you don’t vibe with that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 03:35:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16054679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnil/pseuds/johnil
Summary: wherein qian kun makes himself a home.





	this feeling is so familiar (again i’m running to you)

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS MY FIRST NCT FIC ON HERE AND IT’S KUNYONG BECAUSE RAREPAIRS ARE GOOD SHUT UP
> 
> uh. tw for eating disorders and suicidal thoughts i love y’all

kun wakes early in the morning, before the sun has streamed in through the closed blinds, before taeyong has even woken up. taeyong, as usual, slept over in his room, unceremoniously kicking lucas out. not that lucas really  _ cares, _ per se--he trades his way up the roommate ladder until he gets to sleep in sicheng’s room, and then everyone is happy. it’s a good system.

 

taeyong’s arms are secure around kun’s waist, and kun can’t help but pry them off as he feels bile rise in his throat, feels the urge to get out the scale and weigh himself while he still can. he listens.

 

he’s dropped a few dozen grams, but nothing spectacular, and so he decides he’s not going to have dinner tonight. no matter how hungry he is, no matter how much taeyong is paying attention to him, he  _ won’t _ eat.

 

when kun gets back in bed, taeyong stirs, but only slightly. he circles his arms around kun’s waist and buries his face in the crook of his neck, mumbling something that kun can barely make out. 

 

“where did you go? i was cold…”

 

“bathroom, baobei,” kun lies.

 

“i didn’t hear the toilet flush. if you stink up our dorm, i’m telling the manager,” taeyong says, and kun feels him smile into his shoulder. he plants a kiss on taeyong’s head before letting his eyes fall shut once again. 

 

that night, at dinner, taeyong doesn’t notice when he pushes his food around the plate, not even eating anything. kun is thankful.

 

what he doesn’t notice is the concerned gaze of ten, which lingers on him the entire meal.

 

“you’re not eating,” ten confronts him later, a deep frown etched into his mouth. 

 

“i felt sick today,” kun lies, “that’s all.”

 

he can tell ten doesn’t believe him, but the boy doesn’t push him any further, so he leaves to go to bed. as soon as he crawls into bed, he lets out a long, shuddery breath and curls in on himself.

 

he’s hungry. he’s so, so hungry.

 

and ten  _ knows. _

 

kun pulls his pillow close to his face. squeezing the pillow as tightly as he can, he lets out a quiet sob. 

 

unluckily for him, taeyong comes in at that exact moment and quite literally slams the door shut, running to kun and dropping onto the bed next to him.

 

“kun? kunnie, what’s wrong?” taeyong gently pries the pillow from kun’s grip and places a hand on his chin, using his thumb to wipe away kun’s tears.

 

“i’m so sorry,” kun says, and he’s not even sure what he’s apologizing for. taeyong climbs into bed next to him, and kun curls even further in on himself, sobbing freely. taeyong turns kun so that he faces his chest.

 

“baobei,” taeyong says gently. “i need you to calm down. can you please do that for me?”

 

kun shakes his head. “i…  _ can’t,” _ he says, cutting himself off with a gasp for air.

 

“can you try to breathe for me? just that, just breathe, that’s it.”

 

taeyong has an arm around kun, his hand tracing light circles on his back. it helps.

 

“there, like that,” taeyong encourages. kun sniffs and realizes he’s stopped hyperventilating. “do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

 

kun shakes his head, and taeyong sighs, pulling him closer. kun buries his face in taeyong’s chest.

 

he falls asleep like that. in the morning, taeyong is gone, apparently having decided to let kun skip practice today.

 

kun uses the time to finally weigh himself for the first time in a few days. he pulls the scale out from the bottom of the closet and steps on it.

 

fifty-six kilograms.

 

that’s two fewer than last time, kun cheers internally. 

 

“kun-gē, are you awake yet?” renjun asks, knocking on the door softly. “xuxi made breakfast! we have the day off.”

 

kun practically flies off the scale and shoves it back into the closet. “yeah, i’m coming,” he says, 

 

when he makes it into the kitchen, yukhei grins at him. the smell of food wafts through the air, and kun grips his stomach a little, already feeling ill. “hey, gēgē,” yukhei says. 

 

kun smiles at the name. it makes him feel a bit grounded, knowing that he's got six younger brothers who need an example set for them. and so he sits at the table and grabs a plate of whatever xuxi’s cooked, taking his fork and bringing a small piece to his lips. he shudders a little bit, but then chews and swallows. 

 

oh,  _ god,  _ that felt fucking awful. kun feels like throwing up. 

 

“eat, gē,” sicheng chastises, staring at him with a pout. 

 

“c’mon, kun!” yukhei frowns. a grin then overtakes his face. “fat kun!”

 

and then he’s running into the bathroom, ignoring the shouts of his name as he drops to his knees in front of the toilet and retches. soon, the rest of the boys are crowded around the bathroom door, helplessly calling his name. 

 

“i’m sorry,” kun says, dissolving into mere sobs. “i’m so sorry.”

 

“xuxi,” ten says quietly, “take the kids to their dorm.”

 

only then does he turn to see it, and when he does he buries his face in his hands. renjun and chenle are crying. renjun and chenle are crying  _ because of him.  _

 

yukhei does as told, and sicheng and ten crouch next to kun, ten’s hand rubbing the small of his back comfortingly. sicheng whispers things to him in mandarin. he can't make out the entirety of it, but it's something along the lines of,  _ “what's wrong, gē? we want to help.” _

 

kun shakes his head. “i… can't,” he chokes out, taking a long moment to think out his words from him here on. “i can't.”

 

“you can't…?”

 

“i can't eat,” he says finally. “i'm sick.”

 

“what do you have?” ten asks, and sicheng smacks the back of his head sharply, scowling when ten hisses in pain. 

 

“not like that,” kun says, and then he bows his head and vomits once more. 

 

-

 

they get him onto the couch and wrap him up in blankets, offer him a mug of tea (which he refuses), watch a drama with him. at some point, renjun quietly tiptoes into the dorm and takes a seat next to kun, snuggling up to him and sniffling quietly. 

 

and it's sweet, it's sentimental, because he  _ knows  _ renjun, and renjun is  _ never  _ like this. renjun isn't an  _ angel,  _ he's some kind of devil incarnate. 

 

soon after, chenle creeps in, too, sitting on kun’s other side and wrapping himself around the older. at this point, ten hasn't noticed  _ (and probably won't),  _ but sicheng does. he doesn't say anything, just gently nudges his boyfriend’s side. yukhei startles awake, takes one look at the two boys draped over kun, and lets out a small yell in disapproval. 

 

whereas yukhei doesn't take it any further, ten does, noticing chenle and renjun and standing, grabbing them by their collars and yanking them off the couch. renjun shouts in alarm, and kun, in a half-asleep daze, starts crying, pulling them back onto the couch with a soft  _ thump.  _ ten freezes. 

 

“hy--” he stops himself.  _ “gē,”  _ he corrects. “taeyong will be here soon. it's okay.”

 

kun stops dead in his tracks, eyes widening, and suddenly, he's wide awake. “you called taeyong?!” he nearly shouts. “you can't--what did you say?!”

 

ten peers at him curiously. “i told him you were sick and that he needed to come back as soon as he could.”

 

_ “how sick, ten,”  _ kun says, his voice dangerously quiet.

 

“all i said was that you were sick,” ten responds, holding his hands up. “he doesn’t know.”

 

“kun-gē is sick?” renjun asks softly. “what does he have?”

 

“hush, injunnie,” sicheng warns, and renjun retreats back into the warmth of the blanket. 

 

kun shakes his head. “you can’t tell him.  _ please,  _ ten, you  _ can’t  _ tell taeyong _. _ none of you can.”

 

taeyong bursts into the room, freezing at the sight before him. he must think it’s a conflict. he seemingly doesn’t care, though, because he all-but-sprints to kun, taking his face in his hands and inspecting him. “are you okay?”

 

“i’m fine,” kun waves him off, smiling a little. taeyong’s hair is plastered to his forehead from sweat, and he’s heaving. kun guesses he must’ve run here.

 

taeyong stills, running a thumb over kun’s cheek. he presses his lips to kun’s forehead briefly, then pulls away. “your temperature is fine. what happened?”

 

“i had an upset stomach,” kun lies as if it's the easiest thing in the world. he looks taeyong in the eye while doing it, and ten recoils in surprise. “i'm fine, yongie. really.”

 

taeyong takes him in his arms, leading him into their room and letting him gently fall onto the bed. it barely makes a noise as kun falls, and he cheers internally. taeyong falls into bed beside him, pulling the blanket over the two.

 

“you're shivering, baobei,” taeyong says worriedly, pulling yet  _ another _ blanket onto kun’s frame. 

 

“i'm just cold.”

 

taeyong sighs and wraps his arms around kun’s waist, burying his face in the crook between his shoulder and neck. “you'd tell me if anything was wrong, right?”

 

_ no,  _ kun thinks. 

 

“of course,” kun says instead. 

 

and when he wakes, taeyong is gone. 

 

the next day, ten confronts him when the china line is huddled up together during a break in the middle of practice. no one disturbs them. 

 

“kun,” ten begins simply, “you have a problem.”

 

kun stares. 

 

“what's wrong with kun-gē?” chenle asks quietly. innocently. he doesn't know anything. 

 

sicheng quiets him, putting a hand on his shoulder.  “kun, we’re not going to tiptoe around this,” he grimaces. “you have to beat this.”

 

“what's wrong with kun-gē?!” renjun reiterates exasperatedly. 

 

“nothing,” kun says quickly, turning to sicheng and shaking his head. “i'm  _ fine.” _

 

_ “bullshit!”  _ ten explodes. “you're clearly going to kill yourself if you keep this up! how do you think we feel? how do you think  _ taeyong  _ feels?!”

 

by now, the rest of the practice room is quiet. everyone is listening in on their conversation, but kun sees red and he can't really find it in himself to care about anyone else knowing. besides, it’s not like they can understand the rapid-fire mandarin being spoken. 

 

_ “shut the hell up,”  _ kun orders, voice low and gravelly. 

 

_ “what's wrong with kun?!”  _ chenle shouts  one last time in perfect korean. and ten breaks. 

 

“he's been fucking  _ starving  _ himself! and for what?! for what, kun?!” ten shouts in korean at a volume that everyone can hear. 

 

kun lunges forward. he doesn't even care anymore; he just needs to shut ten up. ten fights back, throwing a punch at kun’s cheekbone that has him recoiling. 

 

taeyong enters the room and chaos breaks loose. 

 

he crosses the room as fast as he can, latching onto kun and holding the thrashing boy back by hooking his arms under kun’s. yukhei takes ten. slowly, jaemin approaches them and pulls chenle and renjun back towards the rest of dream. in the corner of his eye, kun sees jisung pull chenle close to him, like he's protecting him. jaemin does the same with renjun and jeno, and mark with donghyuck. 

 

“kun,  _ stop!”  _ taeyong shouts finally. kun freezes in his grip. 

there's a silence that follows, when ten and kun stop thrashing around and just stare at each other, eyes sunken and exhausted. 

 

“what the  _ hell  _ was that,” taeyong demands, and he’s angry, he’s fucking  _ livid,  _ more so than kun has ever seen. than anyone has probably ever seen, he guesses. 

 

kun falls limp in taeyong’s arm’s, and suddenly, he begins to sob.

 

-

 

no one treats him any differently afterwards. taeyong never gets an explanation. everyone eyes kun at dinner, tries to make sure he’s eating enough. tiptoes around the subject of food altogether. 

 

in just two days, he’s had to resort to eating proper portions and throwing them back up in the middle of the night when everyone is asleep. 

 

one morning, after kun has finished his  _ process,  _ jeno waltzes into the dorm kitchen. he’s here after spending the night in the dorm, of course, with doyoung, who treats him like a flesh-and-blood brother.

 

“oh, hi, kun-hyung,” jeno waves, his signature smile glowing warmly. his eyes crinkle a bit.

 

“morning, jeno. why are you up so early?”

 

“i couldn’t sleep. i heard someone in the bathroom, and i decided it was finally late enough in the morning to make myself some breakfast.” jeno shrugs, making his way towards the coffee machine and putting a mug underneath the spout. 

 

kun seats himself at the breakfast bar, watching jeno make his coffee. “jeno, i have a question.”

 

“yeah?”

 

“is everyone afraid of me now?”

 

jeno pauses. thinks for a moment, eyes wandering up to the ceiling as if the answer will be there for him in bold print. then, he purses his lips. 

 

“i’m not afraid of you,” he says simply. “i don’t think anyone else is, either. we’re just worried.”

 

“did you know?” kun asks timidly. “about…”

 

“i think, in some weird way, everyone knew something was wrong, just not what. i had my suspicions. whatever happened between you and ten a few nights ago proved them right.”

 

jeno wraps his hand around his mug of coffee and turns so that he faces kun, waiting for an answer or some kind of explanation. 

 

kun stares down at the hair on his arms. it’s everywhere, now. his body’s last resort, he guesses. 

 

“i don’t think i can fix this,” kun admits quietly, more to himself than to jeno. “i think ten was right. i’m going to die like this.”

 

a pair of arms wrap around kun from behind him. kun flinches and turns to see who it is, only to see ten. 

 

“i’m so sorry,” he whispers into the crook of kun’s shoulder. “i’m really so,  _ so  _ sorry. i shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

 

kun looks up. jeno is gone. 

 

he turns in his chair, stands, and then he hugs ten with every bit of love that his body has to offer. kun’s sleeve becomes damp with ten’s tears, and ten’s hair damp with his own. 

 

_ nothing will get better,  _ kun thinks as his eyelids droop,  _ nothing ever gets better.  _

 

and that’s how taeyong finds him once he wakes, arms around ten and sleeping peacefully on the cold wooden floor. 

 

-

 

there’s some irony to every situation, kun guesses, because as soon as ten is forgiven, he goes right back and convenes with everyone else who fluently speaks english in the group. this includes himself, yukhei, johnny, mark, jaehyun, and chenle. 

 

but no one knows that kun is halfway decent in english— _ good,  _ even—and no one knows that he’s listening on the other side of the door. 

 

“he’s scared,” is all chenle says at first. someone then implores him to elaborate. “he’s so scared of what’s coming. please, we  _ have  _ to help him. i can’t keep watching this happen.”

 

“jeno was so concerned that he told me he had a conversation with kun early in the morning. he was so shaken… i don’t even know how we’re going to begin to fix this,” mark sighs. knowing him, he’s probably running his hands through his hair right now, or maybe even picking at his cuticles. though, kun had stopped that habit long ago. 

 

“we could tell taeyong,” yukhei suggests emptily, knowing it won’t carry much weight. taeyong would trust kun if he said they were lying about him being sick. and that’s what kun hates so much. 

 

“i think he’s the only one who can get through to kun,” johnny says, his tone approving. kun feels a little bit of fear surge through his body, freezing him where he stands. 

 

and then he falls to his knees. 

 

“what was that?” someone asks. kun’s head shoots up. 

 

he stands, and then he sprints away, back into his room and far away from everyone else. 

 

taeyong comes into the room a little later, and kun feels aggressive, feels  _ reckless,  _ even, and he  _ has  _ to get it out. 

 

so when taeyong shuts the door quietly, turning the knob so that the door won’t even click shut, he wraps himself around taeyong, pressing hot, wet kisses onto the junction between his neck and his shoulder, hands snaking around his waist as he whispers breathily into taeyong’s ear: “i need you.”

 

and later, when taeyong is busying himself by letting his tongue trace patterns on kun’s thigh, he thinks that this is bliss. 

 

_ yes _ , he thinks.  _ this is bliss. i won.  _

 

-

 

he doesn’t talk much to taeyong after they have sex. then again, before that, they hadn’t had sex in a long,  _ long  _ time. 

 

or maybe it’s kun’s fault—maybe he’s still insecure about how taeyong pulled his hand away while absentmindedly massaging his hip bone, running up and down his sides and feeling  _ every single one _ of his ribs. “you’re so thin,” he had whined. “you had better eat some more.”

 

“hm, i don’t like that,” kun had responded, his muscles tensing a bit. “i thought i was pretty.”

 

“you  _ are  _ pretty,” taeyong said. “but you know i love your body. i liked it when you were—”

 

tears springing to his eyes, kun shut him up with a kiss, a choked sob stuck in his throat as taeyong continued on without noticing anything was wrong. 

 

there was, though. there was  _ so much  _ that was wrong.

 

-

 

“gē?” two different knocks sound lightly at his door. “can we come in?”

 

judging by the soft voice, it’s renjun who stands behind the door. judging by the fact that it’s renjun, the other is chenle. 

 

“go ahead,” kun says. he thanks god that taeyong is out running errands right now. 

 

in the darkness of the room, the hallway’s light is a bit blinding, and it makes the two figures standing in the doorway look like angels delivering themselves from heaven. 

 

renjun and chenle cross the room and take their seats on either side of kun. “gē…” renjun says gently, his tone light, like he’s afraid of saying the wrong thing. he doesn’t say anything more. 

 

the two snuggle into his side. slowly, kun draws in a deep breath and sighs. “i know why you two are here.”

 

“yeah?” chenle prods. 

 

“i know you all want me to stop. and i know that you’re all scared, and that everyone but taeyong knows. but i  _ can’t,  _ and i’m so sorry. i can’t.”

 

“gē, you’re going to die,” renjun whispers. 

 

“i’ll be admitted to the hospital before i die, junnie.”

 

but then chenle lets out a sort-of whimpering noise, burying his head in his hands. his body shakes, and only then does kun realize what he’s doing. 

 

he wraps his arms around the younger and holds him as he cries, rubbing circles on his back and making soft shushing noises. “it’s okay.”

 

“you’re not going to get better, are you?” chenle says, and renjun vaults himself across the bed and sprints out of the room, hands flying to his eyes to shield his tears from the rest of the world. chenle tries to follow him, and kun holds him back, but he quickly breaks free from the elder’s grip and chases after renjun. 

 

“no, lele,” kun whispers into the silence of the now-empty room. “no, i don’t think i am.”

 

somewhere between the door to his own dorm slamming and jaehyun’s hesitant calling of his name, kun’s eyes shut, and for the first time in a while, his body falls limp on the bed. 

 

when he wakes, taeyong is sitting on the edge of the bed, and god, he’s  _ convulsing,  _ quiet, muffled sobs wracking his body. kun thinks,  _ i did that,  _ and taeyong says, “i’m so sorry,” and then kun’s eyes snap wide open and he’s crawling across the bed, wrapping himself around taeyong’s tiny frame— _ you’re so huge you’re so much bigger and heavier than him he thinks you’re disgusting he thinks you’re a pig he’s going to leave you because they always do— _ and hugs as tightly as he can. 

 

taeyong flinches. 

 

there’s a silence, and then taeyong is crying even  _ harder,  _ and kun has no idea how to make him stop. 

 

“do you trust me?” taeyong manages to gasp out, his small frame still shaking like a leaf. 

 

“of course, why wouldn’t i?” he presses his lips to the very bottom of taeyong’s nape as a sort of comforting gesture. 

 

“then why won’t you let me  _ help you?” _ taeyong buries his face in his hands. 

 

“i don’t—” 

 

“something is wrong,” taeyong interrupts, “something has  _ been  _ wrong for a long time. and everyone knows it but me. i just…” he heaves a sigh. “i can’t watch you destroy yourself without telling me what’s wrong, shit, i can’t just stand by and let it happen. i love you too much to watch this unfold.”

 

“i’m fine,” kun insists quietly, but the waver in his voice tells taeyong otherwise. “i swear it. i’m okay.”

 

_ “please,”  _ taeyong begs. “trust me. let me make this better.”

 

and kun breaks, a tear rolling down his cheek. a few more follow it, but he doesn’t get a lump in his throat, and his eyes don’t sting. only then does it occur to him how  _ empty _ he feels—not just his stomach, but his heart, his head, his  _ being.  _

 

“the truth would hurt you more than ignorance,” kun admits quietly. 

 

“then maybe…” taeyong pants out in between fits of tears, “maybe we should take a break.”

 

kun freezes. 

 

for a moment, he considers breaking down right there, begging taeyong to stay and screaming out the truth as loud as he can— _ i’m a fat disgusting worthless pig and i’ve been starving and purging because i don’t fucking deserve to be alive— _ but he holds steadfast to his resolve and blinks the tears out of his eyes. he’s silent for a few seconds, weighing the pros and cons of this. 

 

_ if you love him,  _ his mind chants,  _ you’ll let him go. this is for the best.  _

 

“o-okay,” kun whispers, his voice shaking and cracking and  _ god, all he wants to do is scream and pull taeyong back,  _ but taeyong is already standing, wiping his eyes— _ and his nose and his mouth— _ and crossing the room, shutting the door on his way out. 

 

_ well, look what you did,  _ his mind says, and he falls backward into the bed.  _ good job.  _

 

for a solid hour, kun feels nothing. he sits in the dark and thinks, ponders, implores the empty parts of his mind to  _ do something.  _

 

when it finally hits him— _ taeyong is leaving taeyong left taeyong is gone and he’s never coming back and you have nothing to live for now you ugly fucking pig— _ he grabs his pillow, pulls it flush to his mouth, and screams. 

 

and then the scream turns into a sob, and the sobs don’t stop coming because  _ you love him you love him so much why would you just let him leave like that you  _ idiot—and then the sobs turn into cries, the cries turn into whimpers, and kun, exhausted, dehydrated, and malnourished, passes out. 

 

taeyong sleeps on the couch that night, and kun… he sleeps alone, without anyone to soothe his nightmares. 

 

he wakes up at four in the morning with a splitting headache, and when his arm snakes across the bed to snuggle himself closer into the warm body next to him, he’s met with nothing but cold, cold blankets. 

 

when he realizes that taeyong is  _ gone,  _ he grabs the closest thing to him—a plastic cup—and retches into it, letting out a sob as he does. 

 

and  _ fuck,  _ not even vomiting on accident feels worse than the knowledge that taeyong isn’t going to come back. 

 

-

 

they leave him in bed that morning, just like they have for the past few days. but kun, feeling  _ horrid  _ and  _ awful _ and  _ cooped-up _ , decides it’s time to get out of the dorm for a while. 

 

they’re practicing black on black when he opens the door to the practice room, and they all stare at him when he crosses the room and starts dancing like nothing has happened. it’s a relatively seamless transition from depressed, vomiting mess to emotionless dancing machine. 

 

when the song is over, taeyong pauses the next song on the playlist and apprehensively approaches kun. 

 

“you should be resting, right?” 

 

kun shakes his head. “i’m fine.”

 

taeyong fixes him with a disapproving stare. “are you?”

 

it all hits kun at once—the wave of dizziness, the nausea pooling in his stomach, the stray tears that suddenly fall down his face. 

 

panicking, he turns and runs out of the practice room and into the nearest bathroom, falling onto his knees as he slams the stall door behind him. it bounces back open, but before he can worry about it, bile rises up into his throat and spills past his lips. 

 

after a few seconds, kun sits on his knees, panting breathlessly, his hair sticking to his forehead and his face flushed red. his mouth burns, and so does his throat. tears track down his face. 

 

slowly, another wave of vomit forces its way out of him, but it’s much less this time. as he’s finishing, someone walks into the stall. 

 

“kun?” mark asks. “oh, god, are you okay?!”

 

kun stands slowly, wiping his mouth. he’s significantly dizzier than when he had entered the bathroom. the world spins a bit. with a lopsided grin, colors dancing before his eyes, he says, “yeah, mark, i’m great. no need to worry.”

 

and then he falls backwards, hitting his head on the side of the toilet. his world fades in and out for a second or two, just long enough for kun to hear mark shout, “shit,  _ taeyong!” _ before the ringing in his ears becomes all he can hear and his vision explodes in the brightest and most beautiful shade of white before fading to black. 

 

-

 

when he wakes, it’s slow, slower than he’s ever woken before. his eyes open one at a time, and then they blink rapidly. he still can’t seem to feel awake. 

 

kun doesn’t know where he is, but if he had to judge by the iv in his arm and the beeping of a heart monitor in the background, he’d say he’s probably in the hospital. 

 

all he really wants right now is to remember what happened, and maybe to hold taeyong’s hand and cuddle him. 

 

it’s in that moment that he remembers everything that happened. specifically, he remembers taeyong and bursts into tears, hands coming up to cover his face—his _ pathetic  _ face _.  _

 

“hey, hey,  _ kun—” _ a loud voice says, and kun recognizes it as doyoung. he shuts his eyes tightly. “careful, you’re gonna rip your iv out! what’s wrong?”

 

“i’m fine,” kun sobs, and then he thinks about how no one will ever be able to trust him again, especially after seeing him like this. 

 

“we trust you,” doyoung says softly. he grabs kun’s arm and secures the iv. 

 

only then does kun realize he must be hooked up to morphine or some other kind of painkiller. otherwise, doyoung wouldn’t be reading his  _ fucking  _ thoughts, he thinks bitterly. 

 

“calm down.”

 

kun racks his brain for more and finds what he’s looking for—his memory of throwing up, of passing out. he remembers a brief touch to his jaw, hands that he’d recognize from  _ anywhere  _ tracing his jaw, a voice begging him to wake up, and then, nothing. 

 

he only weeps harder. he misses taeyong, misses taeyong  _ so much,  _ and taeyong isn’t even going to bat an eye at him anymore. isn’t that how it’s always been, though?  _ he never loved you, he could never love a disgusting thing like you,  _ his mind supplies. 

 

his head aches. his heart aches worse. 

 

he can hear himself speaking. it’s barely coherent, and he can’t stop his thoughts from tumbling out as fast as he can formulate them. 

 

“what the fuck,” doyoung says eloquently in response to his thoughts—words, rather. “what the fuck.  _ taeyong!” _

 

kun starts to rock back and forth a little. his thoughts become more intrusive, dig deeper into the darker parts of his brain. 

 

_ ugly pig. he’s never going to want you back. you have nothing to live for anymore, do you?  _

 

kun’s arm finds its way to the iv in his arm and rips it out. 

 

_ just die. die. you don’t deserve anything more than that.  _

 

“kun,” lulls a gentle voice, a familiar hand finding its way into kun’s grip. he ignores it. if anything, he cries harder as doyoung wrestles the iv back into his arm and holds it down to the table, restricting it. 

 

“why won’t you let me die?!” he shouts suddenly. doyoung freezes. the hand resting in his own begins to shake a little. 

 

“doyoung, leave.”

 

the grip on his arm disappears. the one on his hand stays. 

 

“kun,” lee taeyong says, his voice gentle and soothing. “kunnie, can you open your eyes for me?”

 

slowly, kun opens his eyes, which are blurry with tears. taeyong’s hand reaches up to wipe them, and his jaw trembles a bit when his hand begins to trace his jaw. his touch burns red-hot, and it’s so,  _ so _ warm and inviting. kun thinks it feels a little like home. 

 

“you scared me so badly,” taeyong whispers. kun stares. he looks ethereal when he  _ shouldn’t,  _ with bags under his eyes and lips chewed raw and hair messy and greasy.  _ that’s love _ , kun thinks cynically, before he remembers what he lost and feels tears form in his eyes once more. 

 

taeyong wipes the tears away again. “don’t cry,” he commands gently. “why are you crying?”

 

“because i ruined everything,” kun says. he doesn’t know if it’s him or the morphine talking anymore, but at least it’s the truth. 

 

“you didn’t ruin anything.”

 

“i  _ did,”  _ he argues. “i ruined my relationships with the group. i ruined the functionality of my own unit. i ruined  _ us,  _ taeyong.”

 

“you think you ruined us?” taeyong’s face falls. “wh—”

 

“you left. because i was too scared to tell you the truth. because i knew no matter what i did, you’d leave,” kun says. it’s the first time he’s realized it in its entirety, actually. it feels good to say it aloud. it feels great, even. 

 

“being on break,” taeyong’s hand pauses its tracing and cups the side of kun’s face gently. “is different from breaking up. i could never do that to you.”

 

_ you did,  _ says the small voice in the back of kun’s mind, and unfortunately, he voices that thought. 

 

taeyong reels back like he’s physically hurt. his eyes soften. “i’m sorry.” he takes a breath. inhale. exhale. “i’m _so_ sorry. i wish you could know how _awful_ i feel. i shouldn’t have left you like that. even if it was just for a night… it lead to three nights. _three_ _nights_ where i couldn’t apologize, couldn’t hold you. it gave me time to think. i wish i could go back and fix it.”

 

“i’ve been in the hospital for  _ three days?!” _

 

“is that all you got out of that?” taeyong smiles, smiles a light, crooked grin that lets kun know he’s genuine. his face falls a bit, the laughter gone from his voice. it’s replaced by that serious tone once more. “why couldn’t you tell me?”

 

“tell you…?”

 

“that you were starving yourself. that you… made yourself throw up at night.”

 

“purged,” kun corrects. “i purged.”

 

taeyong flinches. “...yeah. that.”

 

“i thought—“ kun chokes up a little. “i thought if you knew how i thought of myself, you’d realize i was right and leave.”

 

“and how do you think of yourself?” taeyong asks weakly. his eyes are glassy with unshed tears. 

 

kun folds his hands and stares at them. he very pointedly does not answer. 

 

“kun, please.”

 

“worthless, undeserving—” kun whispers, only to be cut off by the older. 

 

taeyong shifts so that he’s sitting next to kun. “how could you…?” his voice trails off with a lilt, only to come back twice as strong. “kun, i never want to hear you talk like that again. do you know how perfect i think you are? how perfect i  _ know _ you are?”

 

kun chews his lip. 

 

“there are people in this world who care about you more than you’ll ever know. i think you’ll find that i’m one of them. everyone thinks you’re beautiful and perfect and everyone  _ adores  _ you, kun.”

 

taeyong wraps his arms around kun, and the younger breathes out shakily as taeyong presses his lips to his temple. 

 

kun doesn’t know what to say. for once, he’s absolutely  _ speechless,  _ but he still manages to choke out a few words. “i love you.”

 

the frown on taeyong’s face dissolves and reforms as a smile in mere moments. it’s the brightest, warmest thing kun has seen in a while. “i love you, too.”

 

he tilts kun’s jaw a bit so that it’s angled upwards, and his breath fans across kun’s face in light puffs. “can i kiss you?”

 

all he gets in response is a nod, and then familiar lips are being pressed to his for a long, sweet, innocent kiss. 

 

kun thinks,  _ no,  _ this  _ is bliss,  _ and then he thinks that maybe things will be okay. 

 

-

 

at mealtimes,  _ everyone  _ makes sure he eats, and johnny locks the door to kun’s bedroom when he and taeyong retire for the night to ensure that kun won’t be purging anytime soon. 

 

slowly, kun starts to gain weight again, and slowly, he begins to feel worse and worse, even  _ more  _ disgusting, but taeyong is right there, rubbing circles into his side at night as they fall asleep, whispering, “you’re so beautiful.”

 

and slowly, kun starts to listen less and less to the voice in his head that feeds him thoughts of being imperfect. he has taeyong now, and taeyong tells kun what he sees—he sees beautiful, plump lips, deep brown eyes, the prettiest smile, the loveliest thighs. it helps. 

 

sometimes, though, the thoughts come back in the worst way, and kun wakes up crying quietly into taeyong’s chest—not that the older minds. taeyong, rather instinctively, will soothe him—kiss away the bad thoughts, so to speak, and  _ yes,  _ it helps. 

 

there are still days he wants to die. there are days when he can’t get out of bed and days when all he wants to do is crawl towards a toilet and hurl. 

 

but taeyong, ever-prepared, is always there to tell kun how much he adores him. to tell him how pretty he is. to burn searing kisses down every knot of his spine to make kun believe that he’s just as beautiful as taeyong says he is. 

 

and it works. 

 

_ i was wrong,  _ kun thinks to himself one night.  _ things  _ do  _ get better.  _

 

in the cold morning air, he snuggles into taeyong’s side, and for a while, things are just how they should be. the sun streams through the window, casting warm rays onto his face, and for the first time in a while, he thinks,  _ yes, all is well.  _

 

**Author's Note:**

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